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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208249">If these shadows have offended</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingPagan/pseuds/DreamingPagan'>DreamingPagan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Killing Frost spoilers - Freeform, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Patrick Lorden deserves a break, Post-Canon Fluff, and that's all within the last five years, his husband has been elfshot and then lost his way home, his sons have been kidnapped, his wife has been elfshot, instead of struggles, so this is me attempting to give him snuggles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingPagan/pseuds/DreamingPagan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the sound of Patrick’s muffled gasp that wakes Simon more than anything.</p><p>“Patrick?” he asks, sitting up, and Patrick takes a deep breath.</p><p>Simon is far from alone in being traumatized by the past century.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dianda Lorden/Patrick Lorden/Simon Torquill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If these shadows have offended</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s the sound of Patrick’s muffled gasp that wakes Simon more than anything.</p><p>He opens his eyes. It takes a moment to work out where he is; the room is still too new, the feeling of safety still slow in coming, but then again - it has only been a week since he arrived here. There is a ceiling above him and a bed beneath him and the scent of mayflower and cranberries all around and the lingering smell of amber oil and waterlilies and it is the scent that tells him that he is in what he cannot help but think of as Patrick and Dianda’s bed rather than his own, still. The source of the latter lays reclined in her pool, taking her daily rest in her finned form. The former, though -</p><p>Patrick is sitting up in bed, hand held to his mouth to restrain a sob, and he starts when Simon stirs. </p><p>There are tear tracks on Patrick’s face, Simon realizes, and a certain wild-eyed terror, too. His bronze-tinted hair is in a state that under other circumstances Simon might call charming, but right now he longs to just finger-comb it back into place while he finds out what is distressing the man he loves. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realize that he is free to do just that. </p><p>“Patrick?” he asks, sitting up, and Patrick takes a deep breath.</p><p>“Simon. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to wake you -” he starts. He’s shaking, Simon realizes - actually shaking, whether from cold or from upset or both, he can’t quite say. </p><p>“You’re crying,” Simon answers. “Of all the things you should wake me for, I’d say that’s top of the list.” </p><p>He can reach out if he likes, he thinks again, and then, carefully, he does so, and he is not rejected in his attempt to comfort. Patrick does not pull away from Simon’s fingers. He does not snap, or snarl, or make Simon wonder if he is going to lose his hand or his life in the next several minutes for his presumption. That…</p><p>That is novel enough to be concerning, and with the clear-headed certainty the ocean has afforded him after so long, Simon wonders how things ever got to such a pass. Still - that is not relevant right now. There is a weeping Patrick to comfort, and it is Simon’s mission in life to deliver that comfort.</p><p>“What is it, dearheart?” he asks gently, and Patrick sighs. He closes his eyes, and then leans into Simon’s touch. </p><p>“A nightmare,” he murmured. “I - with the divorce ahead of us and the wedding coming up on its heels -”</p><p>Simon inhales. He exhales again, and tries not to feel terror roll through him. </p><p>“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks, and Patrick’s eyes fly open. He looks to Simon, visibly shocked. </p><p>“No!” he answers. “Not for a moment. I would never - I could never!” His hand reaches for Simon’s and twines their fingers together and Simon lets him do it, feeling the terror recede. </p><p>"Thank Maeve," he murmurs. He's not used Oberon's name since October found him, but Maeve remains lost and so he will use her name. He is not being rejected again. He will not face the world without an anchor again. </p><p>Patrick is still shaking slightly and there is nothing in the world Simon would not do to take the lingering traces of horror from Patrick’s gaze. </p><p>“What’s troubling you?” he asks, and Patrick shakes his head. </p><p>“I - it’s nothing. You’re here. You’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”</p><p>Simon shoots him a questioning look, and Patrick sighs.</p><p>“I dreamt… you had been elfshot,” he confesses. “It was - you were -” </p><p>Simon squeezes Patrick’s hand gently.</p><p>“Tell me,” he says quietly, and Patrick swallows hard.</p><p>“You were - your brother had taken custody of you,” he says at length. “You were lain out on a bier but you weren’t <em> safe, </em> Simon. There were roses everywhere, and Luna was laughing and you were - you were - We had such <em> horrifying </em>reports out of Silences during the Restoration, you’ve no idea -”</p><p>He trails off and then he reaches out and in one quick motion, he pulls Simon close. He holds on as if he might never let go, and tucks his face into Simon’s shoulder.</p><p>“Sylvester <em> had you</em>,” he says, voice muffled. “He had you, and he had no reason to keep you safe, he could have mutilated you like those poor people and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him and I hate that I left you there. I <em> left </em>you there.”</p><p>Oh. <em> Oh, </em> Simon thinks, and then he cannot help but reach out to Patrick - to caress his face, to kiss his brow, to offer <em> comfort </em>for the horrible thing his love has just seen in his own mind.</p><p>“I’m here,” he murmurs, returning the embrace just as fiercely. “I’m here, dearest, with all my limbs intact.”</p><p>“It was too close,” Dianda’s voice says from behind Simon, and he startles. He pulls away a fraction, and looks over his shoulder to see his wife-to-be watching him and Patrick with solemn eyes. She’s woken and put on legs sometime in the last ten minutes - probably woken by the conversation from the bed. She sits down beside Simon facing him, and without any hesitation she reaches out to Patrick with one arm and begins to rub his back. </p><p>“Dianda,” Simon says, and Dianda turns her attention to him.</p><p>“We were so frightened when we heard Sylvester had been given custody of you while you slept,” she confesses. “It was as bad as the day the boys were taken. Worse, even. We knew where you were and we knew how long they intended to keep you there and we could do <em> nothing, </em> because in the eyes of the law we had a right to our sons but we had no right to protest your treatment or to take you from Sylvester’s knowe. It was unbearable, Simon.” </p><p>One day, Simon thinks, he is going to get used to being cared for again. One day, far off into the future, it will no longer cause his heart to leap in his chest and his mouth to go dry and tears to form at the corners of his eyes. One day - but not today. He swallows hard, and his grip on Patrick tightens minutely. When he speaks, his voice shakes only a little.</p><p>“For all his faults, I don’t think my brother would wish to make me suffer unless I could feel it.” It’s the truth - he can’t imagine Sylvester being satisfied with mutilating his sleeping body. “He’ll never forgive my crimes against him nor should he, but he’s not a monster.” </p><p>Patrick raises his head again, and when he meets Simon’s gaze, there is barely-contained fury in his eyes.</p><p>“His faults are many, and among them is his lack of care for what you’ve gone through, and for the feelings of those who love you. He wouldn’t even consider hearing me when I asked if I could come and see you while his own daughter rested safely in her parents’ care despite what she did to my sons,” Patrick spits. “It was the simplest of favors and he wouldn’t grant even that. I thought I had lost you forever, first to <em> her </em>and then to Sylvester’s vengeance.” </p><p>That’s - That is - </p><p>“You asked to come and see me?” he croaks, and Patrick gives him an anguished look.</p><p>“You’d come back after eighteen years missing,” he says quietly. “You’d come back, no longer in the Winterrose’s thrall, in your right mind again after more than a century despite her geas and I’d <em> missed </em>you. I missed my friend. I missed the man I love.”</p><p>He pulls Simon tight against him once more, and this time Simon does not hesitate - he sinks into the embrace, clutching Patrick’s back tightly.</p><p>“I’m here now,” he murmurs. “You saved me. If it hadn’t been for you, I would still be so lost. You brought me home - you, and October.” </p><p>“October did most of the work,” Dianda admits. “We merely nudged her, and it was far less than what you deserved from us.” Simon raises his head. </p><p>“You did as much as you could do,” he says, and she shakes her head. </p><p>“No. We should have come to your aid decades ago when we realized what that foul woman had done. In your return to the Mists we saw our second chance. Sylvester denied our request, but had we been granted it, there was nothing that could have prevented me from removing you from your brother’s clutches and bringing you here to be woken.” A note of fury colors her voice. “And now that you are here with us and awake, I swear - I will never again leave you to be harmed without recourse. There will never again come a day where we must watch you suffer and know we have no legal right to come for you. I won’t be so passive again - not when you are my husband, and Patrick’s husband, and stepfather to Peter and Dean.” </p><p>There is silence between them for a moment. The air smells of the perfume Dianda uses from time to time, and very faintly of saltwater, and the room is darkened, and Simon has absolutely no idea what to do with the declaration of loyalty and love that has just been offered to him. He is crying, he realizes - the saltwater is coming from his own tears, which have begun to run down his face.</p><p>“I - I don’t know what to say,” Simon admits. “I still don’t entirely know why you would want to come for me in the first place - how you can still love me after what I’ve done -”</p><p>“Just let it happen, then,” Patrick advises, and he raises a hand and rests it against Simon’s face. “We love you. Can you accept that, at least?” </p><p>Simon hesitates for a moment. He should not. He should run, he should make them leave him behind again for their own safety -</p><p>He nods, and allows himself to lean into Patrick’s touch, and then he mirrors Patrick’s gesture and cradles his lover’s face in his palm.</p><p>“I am a selfish, selfish man,” he answers in a voice that cracks and breaks but ultimately does not fail him. “I haven’t the right to what you’ve just offered me - not to your love or your loyalty, but I will accept both of them for as long as you are still willing.” </p><p>He is weeping, yes, but these are not tears of anguish, not this time. He leans forward, and accepts Patrick’s kisses and then - for the first time in so long, in what feels like a lifetime - he laughs, and kisses back, and feels Dianda shift. She climbs atop the bed and curls herself around Patrick, and for a few moments they are together, happy and safe and not in need of any words between them. </p><p>“Can I convince you to wear something less venerable to the wedding tomorrow? What you arrived in is… well. The less said the better,” Patrick says at last, catching his breath from their exertions, and Simon smiles against his lover’s lips. </p><p>That, too, is a new consideration. It’s been a long time since Simon had new clothing and the idea is <em> wonderful </em> but -</p><p>“I’ll keep my old things until the divorce is final,” Simon answers. It’s not that he’s paranoid - not truly, it’s only - </p><p>He would rather Amandine didn’t repossess him while he wears anything Patrick gifted him. She won’t. She <em> can’t, </em> but just in case - it can’t hurt to be careful.</p><p>“The moment I’m free, I’m yours to do with as you wish,” he promises. “Just be kind and don’t dress me in anything Amandine will approve of - or anything green. Oh - and nothing designed last century if you please. And nothing red, either.”</p><p>Patrick pulls back. He looks at Simon. There is a long pause, and then - </p><p>Patrick snorts. He attempts briefly to arrange his face into a serious expression, fails spectacularly, and then begins to laugh like a drain, eyes lit up with mirth, giggling as though he can’t stop, and Simon beams, because his job here has been completed. Dianda rolls her eyes fondly, and then gives Simon a knowing look.</p><p>“I knew I liked you,” she murmurs, and then raises Simon’s hand still held in hers, to her lips and kisses it gently. “We should all get a few more hours’ sleep. May I join you?”</p><p>“Far be it from me to keep you from your love affair with the pillows,” Patrick answers, fond affection in his tone. “Would you prefer an edge, or the middle?” </p><p>“I’ll take the outside,” Dianda says. “I may need more time without legs before I go and fight Amandine for Simon’s hand.” </p><p>Patrick releases his hold on Simon at last, and begins to shift over toward the wall. Simon does the same, and within a moment, Dianda has joined them in the bed. Her skin, Simon thinks, is warm - wonderfully so, and Patrick is on his other side, also warm, and - </p><p>He does not know what tomorrow will bring, but he is not going to face it alone.</p>
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